The moonless night, p.28
The Moonless Night, page 28
“He referred to you as Bathurst’s godson this morning, and not as ‘that demmed Sanford,’ so I think he is reassessing you.”
“Good. Then it remains only for him to reassess your worth—a hundred thousand is a little steep for a country wench—and I shall speak to him.”
“A little judicious puffing up of his part in last night’s intrigue should lower my value,” she suggested.
“Throw in the coronet and he’ll be paying me to take you off his hands. I wonder if that isn’t an idea!” he said, with a considering look on his face.
“Sanford! How can you be so cheap!”
“How can you be so cork-brained! We negotiated the deal days ago.”
To reestablish goodwill with his fiancée, Sanford flattered Sir Henry with all the skill at his command when the gentlemen of the press and government arrived not much later. Before the morning was over, Sir Henry had hit on the exact moment when he had come to the fateful decision of cutting the chain. It was just when his son pointed out that the rescue would be done by means of Rawlins masquerading a bunch of renegades as British seamen. But David was always up to anything, and had got a pack of his own friends on to the ship.
“It is my opinion that Prince George ought to have the chain repaired at the government’s expense,” Sanford said. At this point he actually received one of Sir Henry’s beetle-browed smiles, that looked so terribly like a frown. “As it was maintained by Edward VI in the old days,” Sanford mentioned.
When Admiral Keith arrived a little later to add his august presence to the assembly, he diverted a good deal of interest to himself, by announcing that Captain Cockburne was arrived aboard the Northumberland to carry Bonaparte off to Saint Helena, and was only awaiting official word from London, and a stout breeze, to do it.
There was no question of Sanford’s leaving before this interesting event had occurred. He had plenty of time to have the chain repaired at his own expense, and make up a story to Sir Henry that the Prince Regent had asked him to do it, and he would be reimbursed. He had more figuring to decide how he would get a letter from Prinney attesting to this agreement; Sir Henry wanted it for his files. A series of hasty urgings to his godfather culminated in the raising of Sir Henry Boltwood, K.B.E. to Sir Henry Boltwood, Bart. He and his successors were henceforth to be styled baronets, within easy grasp even of a barony the next time the Bolt Chain was required.
Before Seadog left for the Isle of Wight, bearing in Sanford’s cabin two dozen green speckled leeches, and on its deck all the Boltwood ménage except Sir Henry, there was a gratifying announcement in the local papers that Sir Henry Boltwood, Bart., was happy to announce the betrothal of his daughter, Marie, to Lord Sanford, the wedding to take place soon at Bolt Hall, which led inexorably to a lengthy recounting of the history of Bolt Hall.
As Seadog lifted anchor and caught the prevailing wind in her sails to drift out over the chain to the sea, Sir Henry stood on the rampart, waving a white handkerchief, and formulating plans for a slightly larger yacht, a schooner, actually. Something to do justice to a baronet. A schooner that would sleep a dozen was what he had in mind, with a fancy fireplace and a bit of a wine cellar. Davey, good lad, would like to have it.
This plan dropped from his mind as he went to his study, to smile at all his trophies, and lastly to let his eyes linger on the patent outlining all details of his new eminence, the baronetcy. As he got down to business, drawing up the letter disclaiming the municipality’s liability in forthcoming “delicate matters,” he was a happy man.
Copyright © 1980 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Coventry
Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
Joan Smith, The Moonless Night
